By Carole Davis
I love summers in Maine.
Listen for our neighbors
swimming up to the dock,
singing a welcome.
They come without invitation
Arrive when they wish,
Leave when the weather
Disinvites them.
As with all friendships,
connections are fragile.
Homes must be respected,
diet should be suitable,
intruders stopped.
My neighbors visit less often now.
Their wondrous voices silenced.
Is that absence of music
a new call from the loons,
one that is shouting, “Help?
